by J. Dorothy
I wonder for a minute, who's driving, if Jason's here with me. He must have some kind of accomplice and we must be in some kind of van.
I try to calm my breathing, it won't do Treasure Pot any good if I keep panicking. I don't want to have him prematurely, and I know from all my reading, stress can do that. I'm not sure if he'll survive if that happens. I can't jeopardise my baby. I just can't. I have to hold it together.
The vehicle does a sharp turn and I'm pushed against a leg. Must be Jason’s . My whole body tenses at the contact, as I hear a sharp chuckle. “Gonna get a bit rough, now. Hold on tight.”
Shit, where is he taking me? This really isn't good. I can't even begin to think what he has planned. He is such a crazy ass, and he sounds and smells high, so god knows...
And it does get rough. I'm bouncing all round the place and the hard floor keeps banging into my back and arms. There’s going to be bruises the size of Texas covering me if I ever get out of this alive. Holy hell, I really can't afford to think like that. I have to keep the faith. Travis said he'd look after me. I have to hold onto the hope he's as good at his job as he says he is. I let out a muffled groan with each bounce, which seems to entertain Jason, as he lets out a high pitched, crazy chuckle every time.
Then the vehicle comes to a halt, and my whole body jars at the impact.
Oh. No. We must be here. Where ever here is. I'm trying really hard to keep it together, but now we've stopped, the inevitable just got a whole lot closer, and I can't stop thinking about what's ahead. I focus all my strength on Treasure Pot. I have to survive for his sake. I promised to always love him the moment I decided to keep him. I need to hold that promise. I need to get out of this alive, no matter what it takes.
There is movement and a swish of cold air rushes in and washes over me. Where ever we are, there obviously isn't any sunshine or its night time. I still can't tell, I'm in darkness. My body trembles, and I can feel goose bumps covering every part of me. My heart is racing like never before, and I'm finding it hard to breathe through my nose. I can't get enough air to fill my lungs, like I'm suffocating. I try real hard to take slow breaths, but it's not easy and takes all my concentration.
Then my legs are yanked and I'm being pulled from the floor of the vehicle, I wince as my bruised back is being scraped over what feels like cold metal. I feel a rough hand grab my arm and pull me up to sitting, my tied and bound legs now dangling over the back of the vehicle. The movement makes me dizzy for a minute, and all I want to do is pull off this blindfold so I can get my bearings. But that doesn't happen, so I try to tune in to the sounds around me. Only problem is, there is not a single sound I can latch onto to help me work out where I am.
Jason hasn't spoken, but I can hear the movement of another person, coming closer. Oh God. I can only imagine who it is. He's involved with some real bad people. Maybe he's hired someone to kill me, or hurt me. It's obvious from the photos he doesn't do his own dirty work. Typical. He always was one to walk away, and act the innocent.
I hear Jason grunt, and he pulls me off the tray and I stumble, I mean how does he expect me to walk with my legs tied together. He steadies me with his rough disgusting hands. Ugh, I really wish I could push him away. I hate him touching me. My skin is crawling and my breath hitches again. Then he pushes me away and I expect to fall on the ground, but I don't. I fall into another's arms, and I'm quickly scooped up and being held in strong arms. Hang on, these arms feel familiar, and I know that scent.
In an instant I know who's carrying me.
Holy crap. Holy, holy crap.
Now I do feel like throwing up, and I don't know if I can stop it this time.
The one chance I had. The one person who I thought would save and protect me. Is the one person who is now carrying me.
Travis.
Oh. My. God.
I gag on the bile in my mouth and choke out a muffled cough as he continues to carry me, his hands locked in a strong hold on my legs and arms. Now I really do lose it, I try to wriggle away, but he continues to tighten his grip, I give it one last go, but I really have no chance.
My last hope has just been shot to pieces, and I'm left with nothing.
Now the panic really does set in, and I can't stop it this time.
TWeNTY-eiGHT
_________________________
Travis hasn't spoken one word, while he carries me, and its scaring the shit out of me. I know I've been crying, I can feel the tears drying on my cheeks, and there's plenty more to come. My whole body is a bunch of trembling nerves, God knows what they have planned. It won’t be good, whatever it is and I’m not sure if I’ll survive .
Then I hear two high pitched shots ring through the air, and I cringe, Holy mother of ... that sounded like it was close. Jason must have a gun. Crap, I'm really not going to survive, he 's going to kill me. I bite down on the binding in my mouth, trapping my bottoms lip and drawing the metallic taste of blood. My teeth would be chattering if they could, and I'm suddenly really cold. Even in Travis's warm arms, I'm far from comforted, instead my skin is crawling with a million ants. I don't know how much more I can stand, but I have to stay awake, if I don't, I will be well and truly dead. I have to look for a way to escape. Jennifer Jaimeson is not going down without a fight. I'll do whatever it takes.
Keeping my thoughts angry is helping. I imagine my hands wrapped around Jason's neck, squeezing tight, then switch, imagining kicking both him and Travis where it hurts and watching them writhing on the ground like wounded animals. That makes me feel better and stronger for a matter of minutes, until Travis stops walking, and I can feel him lowering me to the ground. I expect to feel dampness and cold , but instead I feel the warmth of another body. I try to wriggle free, when arms trap me once more and I can't move.
Jason.
For some reason he's sitting on the ground with me sitting on his lap. This is all so strange. Why, if he's going to kill me, is he holding me? They could have easily done away with me by now.
Then I hear a click, and a small light flashes through my blindfold.
What the hell was that? Sounded like a camera.
Jason does seem to have a photo fetish. Maybe he's one of those deranged psycho's who collects photos as a trophy. That thought sends another current of shudders down my spine, thinking after I'm dead, he's going to get himself off, looking at photos of me all tied up, at his mercy. That tips the scale on disgusting. I taste the bile in my mouth again, and have to clench my stomach muscles to stop heaving.
I try and wriggle free again. When...
Jason squeezes tighter, and kisses my neck. “Keep still, Jen, Jen, we're nearly done, and then I can have you all to myself.”
What? He's not going to kill me? Well what's he going to do to me?
Ugh! I have to stop thinking, my mind is in overdrive. I wish I could ask him what the hell is going on. If I knew, I could prepare. I inhale through my nose and shudder again, my lips are trembling, my heart racing, like I've just run a fifty mile marathon. Guess that's what being terrified does to you, gives you adrenaline you don't normally have. And you can either choose to use that to your advantage or to your disadvantage. I'm working on the former. I decide in this moment I'm going give myself a chance, as slim as that may be. I have to for Treasure Pot. I'm going to wait for any weak moment. It's the only chance I'll have.
I hear footsteps coming closer. Jason nods his head against mine and I cringe, not sure what he's giving the okay for.
Then a metal blade slices through the skin on my cheek so fast, I jump in shock at the contact. The pain overtakes and my whole body tenses as the sharp throbbing starts, and the blood trickles down my face. Shit that hurt. Travis must have just cut me, which makes my blood boil. He cut the mother of his baby. Oh, I'm so furious, I can feel my whole face heat up and I clench my hands, digging my nails into my palms as they're tied behind my back. Then the blade is back touching my other cheek, and I brace myself for another slashing, when I feel a tug on my hair
. Shit, he just cut my hair. These psycho's are frigging crazy. What do they want with my hair?
I don't know when, I don't know how, but I snap. I lose complete control, I vomit and start choking on it, spluttering and trying to cough. I find myself being doubled over onto the ground, and finally the binding is taken from my mouth, so I can spit out the vile stuff. God that tastes awful and my stomach wretches, I convulse and vomit again several more times. Poor Treasure Pot, I hope to God, this doesn't bring on labour.
“Jesus.” I hear someone mutter behind me. Sounds like someone cares, but not sure who.
There hasn't been any talking till now. This is the only advantage I have and I intend to use it, before I lose the opportunity.
A bottle of water is pressed to my lips, and I gulp down the fresh cool liquid. I'm so thirsty, didn't realize how much, and I keep gulping it down. I must drink it all, as I feel the last drop on my tongue and the bottle is yanked away. I'd like to say I feel better, but I'm not even close.
At least now I'm standing, and I can speak. “Jason, what the hell are you doing? Why are you doing this?” I croak out, desperate for an answer. My voice is raspy, but it sounds okay.
“Shhhh, no more talking. We'll talk later, when we're done,” he speaks in my ear, as he strokes my sliced cheek.
I wince away from his touch, but he yanks me against his back, and I can feel his whole disgusting body pressed close.
“Please. Please don't hurt me, or my baby. I'll do whatever you want. But please ...” I plead out and choke on a sob. Now I can breathe through my mouth, I gulp at the air, as my sobs find a voice.
“Shhhh. It's alright. Everything will be alright soon. Patience.”
I whimper again, and turn into him, snuggling into his chest. I feel him tense up, like he didn't expect me to find comfort with him. I start to kiss his neck, and whisper in his ear. “Please Jason, please...”
He hugs his arms tighter and keeps shooshing me with little cooing noises. I want to wash out my mouth and lips with bleach, but I keep kissing him, and press even closer. I want to distract him, anything to stop him from hurting me, and he seems receptive to my touches. Maybe with a little more persuasion he'll undo my hands, and then I might have a real chance.
It seems like we are here alone now, I can't hear another person. I have no idea where Travis has gone. I reach higher with my kisses, until I feel Jason tilt his head, I'm kissing his cheek now, and I want to retch again, but I don't. I've obviously got him off guard.
Jason is rubbing his hands up and down my back. Caressing me in a caring manner. Maybe he does want me, and isn't going to kill me. That or he's having one last hurrah. That makes me mad again. I remember vividly all the times he tricked me into thinking he cared, before he humiliated me. Well, two can play that game. I'm going to make a move, get one last left hook, to finish this fight once and for all.
He turns his head ever so slightly and I touch my lips to his, ever so softly. I feel his lips part. He's giving me entrance to his mouth, which is all kinds of disgusting, seeing as I just threw up a few minutes ago. He must be high. I mean even a crazy person wouldn't enjoy that, surely.
I take the plunge and part my lips and let his tongue enter my mouth. He moans around our kiss, and pulls me tighter, so there's not a breath of air between us. It's now or never. I bite down hard on his tongue, and a gush of blood enters my mouth, but I don't retch, I just bite down harder. It goes against my every grain, not to spit that foul metallic taste from my mouth, but I want to hurt him and hurt him good.
Jason reacts immediately, and tries to push me from him, but I'm latched on and don't give up easily, then everything is a blur. One second I have Jason's tongue in my mouth, biting hard, the next I'm on the ground and spitting out blood. A gunshot rings out, and I curl up into a ball, to protect Treasure Pot. If they shoot me anywhere other than the stomach, maybe they can save the baby.
I don't care about me anymore.
Please just save my baby, is my only thought as my mind drifts off and I'm lost in the darkness.
Buzzing sounds, accompanied by smells of burning surround me, as smoke fills my nose, and I lick around my dry mouth, tasting the foulness of the air. I'm being carried again, and we're moving fast. At least I'm not dead. Then I realize I'm not bound either. I quickly move my hands over my stomach, relief rushing over me as I feel my swollen belly. I can feel Treasure Pot. Thank God.
I flutter my eyelashes and the dull light is blinding, my eyes instantly water with the sting of smoke and ash. God are we in the middle of a fire. How the hell did that happen? My eyes instantly flick to the person carrying me. Shit, it's Travis. And he looks the most panicked I've ever seen him. He's constantly looking over his shoulder, like he's expecting someone to be chasing him.
I am so confused. Is he a good guy, or a bad guy? I still haven't figured that out. He was helping Jason before, and he slashed my cheek, but he's obviously the one who unbound me and got me out of there. Then he looks down at me.
I swallow and frown and he gives me a weak smile, like he's relieved to see me conscious. I go to open my mouth to ask him what's going on, when he gives his head a small shake, like a warning to keep quiet. I give a small nod and cling onto his blackened shirt, looks like he got singed from the fire. There are scratches and bruises on his face. I wonder how he got those. Doesn't take much to guess really. I'd say him and Jason got into a fight. But why?
I wish I could ask him, but it doesn't look like we're out of danger just yet, so I decide to trust him for now. I have a feeling I wouldn't be alive right now if not for him. I tuck my head closer to his shoulder, to stop from inhaling any more smoke, that can't be good for me or the baby. I'm curious as to where I've been this whole time, and I peek from hooded lids to take in the blur of scenery as Travis runs through it. We are in thick woodland, that feels familiar. I wonder if this is some hidden part of Wicca Woods, I mean I've only ever been to the touristy parts, not anywhere else. The trees certainly look the same.
That makes me feel a little better, if that's where we are, we are bound to run into someone who might be able to help us. Just as I'm having this thought, Travis runs into a clearer part of the woods, and we are suddenly surrounded on all sides, by shouts of, “Stop. Police. Don't move.”
Oh, thank god. I never thought I'd be happy to see a cop, but right now seeing them, is such a huge relief.
The next few minutes go by in a flash, as Travis sets me down on the ground and holds his hands up in surrender. Then I'm surrounded by medics and police. I'm put on a stretcher and I'm being wheeled away from the scene. Through the chaos, I see Travis talking fast to the police, then I see him being handed a gun. He meets my eyes for a brief second, and gives me a wink, before he turns back toward the place where we came and disappears, the black clouds of smoke billowing in the air masking me from seeing much more.
Shit. He must be going back to find Jason. So he is a good guy. Not sure how that story works, but my thoughts are quickly pulled from all that, as the paramedic attaches machines to my arms, and encourages me with a warm smile to lie down. I'm covered in a heavy blanket and the beeps of the machine are a comfort. I'm so glad someone is making sure Treasure Pot is okay. He's all I care about. I want every inch of me checked.
I can feel my eyes drifting closed, as I'm wrapped tight and snug while being put into the back of the ambulance. Relief washes through me, and tears leak down my face.
“It's alright, sweetheart, you're safe now,” a friendly voice says in a soothing tone, as my hand is squeezed by another nice warm hand.
Thank God. Thank God. That's all I can think right now. I don't care who this medical guy is, I'm just so glad he's here looking after me. I really need that. I need to feel safe again.
I must have drifted off, I don't remember riding in the ambulance or arriving at the hospital. But here I am. I look around at the pale blue walls, and listen to the beeping of the machines, monitoring my heart rate and Treasure Pot's. I lo
ve that sound, it's the best sound in the world, to know he's okay, and we made it out of those woods alive. I rub over my belly again and again, cooing words to Treasure Pot. At least he will never know what we went through. That's a memory I will keep locked away. I think I might need to for my own sanity. I don't want to relive any of it. Even though I know the cops will want to ask me questions, which I will have to answer.
I just hope they leave me in peace for now.
The door creaks open, and Bailey and Cam smile warily as they walk in.
“Hey,” I give them a weak smile in return, but I’m so relieved and happy to see them both.
“Hey, yourself,” Cam says and drags a chair close to my bed. He looks tired and worried. There are stress lines marking his usually calm face and he looks like he hasn't had a shower for days. His hair is greasy and his denim jeans and sky blue t-shirt are all wrinkled.
“I'm sorry,” he says with a raspy voice. I frown wondering why he's apologizing. I look at Bailey and she gives me a shrug. Now I take her in, she doesn't look much better. Her hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, and it looks like she's thrown on jean shorts and a white t-shirt from the dirty laundry basket.
“Cam hasn't slept in two days, he's been worried sick about you, and ... me.”
Two days? How has it been two days?
I wrinkle my brow deeper, and Cam sighs big, as he clasps my hand in his. “God, Jen, I've never been that scared before. I am so glad you're okay. I should have been there to help you. I'm so sorry.”
He's apologising again, and I have no idea why he thinks he could have helped me. He wasn't there. I really need someone to clear this all up. I mean as much as I don't want to talk about the whole ordeal, I think my curiosity might overshadow my loss of sanity.
“What do you mean? I really don't know what happened. You see I was... um... bound, and um... gagged and ... blindfolded.” I swallow down the oversized lump in my throat. That was harder to say than I thought it would be. Saying it almost makes it real again, and I can feel my eyes watering at the memory.